


Personal Hero

by Josey (cestus)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:26:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everyone is overjoyed at the news of Renji's promotion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Hero

**Author's Note:**

> I've always found it odd that Rikichi is described as only having joined the 6th because of Renji, when Renji's only been there for three months. This is my solution.

"Hey, squirt, you hear the news?"

Rikichi ignored the jibe and kept scrubbing. Shihakushō didn't clean themselves and he had the rest of his squad's laundry to finish before lunch. Sweat dripped down his nose and he tipped his head to wipe his face on his shoulder. 

A loud grunt accompanied the solid thump of a large body plonking down on the steps of the barrack block behind him. Apparently Jiro was going to share whether Rikichi wanted to hear it or not. Joy.

"Your hero's gone and got his-self promoted."

"What?" Rikichi jerked to attention, almost tipping over the tub as he turned to stare at Jiro in shock. There was no question as to who he meant. Everyone in the 11th knew there was only one hero for Usaka Rikichi. 

"He... he's won the fourth seat?" Rikichi asked, not actually expecting an affirmative answer. The smug expression on Jiro's ugly face didn't suggest it. Across the yard someone bellowed in pain and several voices rose above them in laughter. A typical conversation at the 11th.

"Nope," Jiro said, popping the 'p' sound as his grin got broader. "Better get used ta scrubbin', boy. Abarai's off ta the 6th. As fuku-fuckin'-taichō no less."

"Fukutaichō?" Rikichi gulped, torn between joy for his hero and terror at being left behind. No more Renji meant no one to step in when things got out of hand. 

No one to remind a drunk Ikkaku-sanseki that Rikichi was actually 11th division, not 4th , and so shouldn't be hung off the flag pole as a warning to outsiders. No one to make sure he got his one day off per month and didn't end up on call twenty four hours a day. No one to say thank you when Rikichi delivered his clean laundry, and no one to say please when they told him to do a sake run. 

"Like I said, squirt, better get used ta scrubbin'. Reckon yer easy ride's over with." Jiro leered, reaching out to tousle Rikichi's hair. 

Rikichi ducked out from under the unwelcome touch, shooting at glare at Jiro, who sniggered and wandered off across the dusty courtyard, presumably to share the good news with his friends. 

Rikichi watched him go, heart in his belly. Renji was leaving the 11th . 

Whatever the others said, Rikichi wasn't that much of a wimp that he wouldn't survive it, but Renji was about the only thing that made life tolerable. He might be rough but he was fair, and every time he came across one of the division putting on Rikichi, he always made them stop. Even if it was only to insist he and Rikichi spar together so he could teach 'the rabbit' how to be a real man. 

And now he was leaving. 

To be a fukutaichō. Which was great. He totally deserved it.

Fukutaichō... The word danced around in Rikichi's head as he returned to his laundry, scrubbing in a desultory fashion. There was some significance there, something he should know. 

Understanding sprang suddenly and fully formed into his mind. The soap dropped from his numb fingers into the tub, splashing suds unnoticed onto his hakama. 

A fukutaichō, Rikichi thought. Of course. Of course!

*

How could one person accumulate so much crap in just half a century? Renji glared hopelessly at the piles spread out across the floor in front of him wondering where to start. He didn't even know what sort of accommodations he'd end up with at the new place. Better than here, had to be, it was the 6th and they weren't short a bob or two or so rumour had it. Plus he was going up a few ranks. 

Fukutaichō.

Renji shook his head as he slowly sorted through his clothing. Him, a lieutenant. Who'd have thought it back there in Inuzuri, when he was nothing but a street rat scavenging for his next meal. 

And it wasn't just any division. It was the 6th, as fukutaichō to Kuchiki Byakuya. The one man in Seireitei Renji was desperate to surpass. 

Cloth creased between Renji's fingers as he stopped sorting to stare into the distance, head spinning with the implications of the promotion. To be that close to Kuchiki, to be able to study him everyday. It would give Renji a real advantage. His dream was finally within touching distance.

Zabimaru twisted and grumbled at his hip. Soon, Renji reassured him. Soon, and then we'll show him who's boss. They were already so close to bankai, he could taste it. Another decade, maybe two, and he'd get there for sure. And then what? Captain? Dare he look that high?

"Abarai-san?"

"Eh?" Renji yelped, as a quiet voice interrupted his day dreams. Then he saw who it was and puffed out a breath of relief. "Oh, it's just you, Rikichi. I've told you before, drop the Abarai crap when we're back at base. Just Renji's fine."

"Renji-san," Rikichi said, slipping into the room. He was always so quiet, so inoffensive. What the hell he was doing in the 11th was anyone's guess. "I wanted to congratulate you on your promotion."

Renji grinned happily. "Hey, thanks. Not that I'm not gonna miss you guys." He pressed a fist to his chest and began, "You can take the man out of the 11th..."

"But not the 11th out of the man," Richiki dutifully completed, but his voice sounded odd, like he was tired or something. 

"You all right?" Renji asked. "Not working you too hard, are they?" If it was that asshole Jiro and his pals again, Renji'd haul 'em up in front of taicho. If you didn't respect your own division members then you were scum who didn't deserve to be serving. Damn, bullies like that really pissed him off.

"No, I'm fine, honestly..." Or maybe he was nervous? He was fidgeting, which wasn't unusual for Rikichi, but the kid's eyes were everywhere but on Renji's face, which made Renji suspect there was something else. "Um... Renji-san?" 

Here it came. Renji sat up and tried to look attentive. As sixth seat he had only been peripherally involved in personnel problems. As fukutaichō, they'd be a huge part of his job. He might as well step up now. Whatever Rikichi's problem was, Renji would tackle it with enthusiasm and solve it before he left!

"Have you thought about who's going to be your batman?"

"Bah... What now?" Not an auspicious start.

"As a fukutaichō," Rikichi said, "you're entitled to have someone to look after your stuff, prepare your meals and do your cleaning, that sort of thing. And I was wondering who was going to do all that for you?"

He was? That was the first Renji had heard of it. There wasn't anyone like that at the 11th, everyone just pitched in to help. Mind you, Yachiru wasn't exactly a run of the mill fukutaichō so that kind of figured.

"I... guess Kuchiki-taicho'll appoint someone?" Renji hazarded. He didn't know anyone over at the 6th. All his friends were here, except for Kira and Momo. Maybe he could ask them for advice. Did they have – what was it Rikichi called them? A batman? 

Would he even get a say in who it might be? He wasn't sure he liked the idea of a stranger poking around in his things.

"Oh, okay, you're probably right," Rikichi was saying, his voice sadder and quieter now than it had been before. "I'll leave you to pack then." He sounded so defeated and that was totally wrong, Renji thought wildly. No one in the 11th should sound defeated. 

As Rikichi turned to leave, Renji took a blind stab at a solution. "Don't suppose you fancy the job, do ya?" He couldn't imagine Rikichi did. It would mean leaving the 11th and why would he want to do that. Renji had excellent reasons for going. Rikichi didn't.

And yet the kid's face lit up like a sunrise. "If you'll have me, Renji-san, I'd be honoured," he gushed and bowed so deep his nose must have touched his knees.

"Oh ah, right then." Not even half a second to think about it. And now that face that had been as long as wet weekend was grinning happily at him. Renji smiled back a bit tentatively. He'd never had a servant before. How did you treat them? He had to make sure not to bully him or anything. He knew he could be a bit direct...

"Is this your stuff?" Rikichi was asking, gesturing to the piles round Renji's feet. 

"Er, yeah. I was packing. Sort of," Renji replied, turning his attention back to the never ending task. He hadn't got very far, had he, probably because he didn't know where to start. When he arrived at the 11th he'd had his shihakushō and Zabimaru. That had been it. 

"I'll tell you what," Rikichi said coming further in to the room and narrowing his eyes at the mess in a calculating fashion, hands on his hips. Renji began to have an uneasy feeling. "There's transfer paperwork to fill-out and someone needs to tell Zaraki-taicho that I'm going with you, since he'll have to replace me. You handle that and let me handle all this. Deal?"

The narrow-eyed look snapped up to Renji, who took a quick step back. The last time he'd seen an expression like that it'd been on Rukia when she'd wanted something. Capitulation was so ingrained it was automatic. "Sure, yeah, why not," he said, and was promptly hustled out of his own quarters.

It wasn't until he was outside in the corridor, staring at the firmly closed door that he realised. He wasn't just going to have to inform Zaraki-taicho that the 11th was losing the best houseboy they'd ever had, he was going to have to tell Yumichika that he was stealing the only guy who'd ever agreed to launder Ikkaku's socks.


End file.
